


Same Sky

by Bhelryss



Series: elibeweek2018 [2]
Category: Fire Emblem: Rekka no Ken | Fire Emblem: Blazing Sword
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-17
Updated: 2018-02-17
Packaged: 2019-03-20 11:05:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13716357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bhelryss/pseuds/Bhelryss
Summary: Elibe week Day 7: Free For AllMatthew sits in someone’s home, not yet in the employ of some girl those Caelin knights treat like a lord, and thinks, “Do you see this sky, Leila?” He fingers his empty pocket and does not think of rings and a quaint home of their own, he only thinks of his own clever fingers and treasure, and an opportunity to be a pest in the side of a lord of Lycia.





	Same Sky

Matthew keeps the curtain from closing off the window entirely with one finger. There is a girl out there, with green hair falling from a tail at the back of her head like a flag,  _ attended _ by knights with Caelin livery on their steeds. There is a pegasus, circling above their heads, and an archer with a big smile, and a burly looking man swinging an axe in widening, arm stretching circles. 

The glimpse of the wild blue sky, bluer out here on the edge of Sacae’s singing plains than in the heart of Ostia, almost takes Matthew’s attention from the trouble literally brewing under his nose. The wind-sculpted clouds bring an easy smile to his face, any number of memories with Leila tied to the shapes he sees there. He hums her favorite tune as he keeps an optimistic eye on the trouble outside.

If his fingers are nimble, and they are, then maybe he can turn this to his own gain. He’s been saving for a ring, for a house and a life outside the craft, after all. And the Marquess of Araphen is exactly the kind of guy who deserves to be a donor to that cause. If he can just figure out how to best insert himself into the situation... (He wiggles a little when he comes to a tricky little riff to Leila’s favorite song, and Lyn stalks up to the door.)

That’s his cue!

He dances up to a chest, thinking highly of the treasures he’s about to lift from Araphen’s keep, all in the name of this girl those Caelin knights treat like a lord. Lundgren’s not going to like that, he notes seriously amidst the levity of the mayhem he’s now part of, but that hardly matters when he has doors to open and treasures to liberate. Uther’s report can wait just a little.

Lyn, he learns later, is Lundgren’s own grandniece. He fingers his empty pocket, thinking about that instead of treasure and rewards (and risks and the idea of a ring a little too small for his own hand, meant instead for a smaller hand), and smiles bright and broad and a little silly. He follows along without complaint because this is his job, just this kind of trouble. The sort of stuff that sings adrenaline through his blood, and he can ignore that call of trouble and treasure and adventure about as much as he can ignore Uther’s orders. (That is to say, he can’t.)

Matthew can’t help but think fondly that, at least Leila understands this about him (because she’s like that too).

His smiles are easy, his fingers nimble and his knives sharp, and when his gaze catches details the others miss he laughs and smiles and shoots off a sarcastic comment he knows that Leila would laugh at, if she were here. He misses her, but they both have their duties. He thinks of  _ someday _ fondly and with growing longing, a time when they no longer need to be separated by their jobs.

It’s a thrilling dream, just heady enough to keep his attention even when it’s better directed to other places.

The closer they get to Caelin, the fiercer Lyndis’ opposition gets.  _ Inheritance disputes _ , Matthew thinks, with a heavy, leaden stomach and a tired itch behind his watchful, keen eyes,  _ are always nasty _ . Leila would agree, he’s sure, even though the  _ Lady Lyndis  _ those Caelin knights bow to seems fairly uninterested in the position of its own right.

Matthew, who loves the wide backdrop of the blue sky over the Sacaean plains more than he does the roof-strangled hints of sky in the cities, doesn’t sneer at the naivety of a half-blooded Lycian heir. Instead, he runs his tongue over the edge of his sharpest tooth and cocks his head to the side, and watches Lyn watch the sky. His fingers drum out his favorite song’s beat on his upper thighs, and he composes his report in his head. ( _ Unlikely heir, uninterested in power. Family is a powerful motivator.  _ _ Kind, with a noble protective streak. _ )

It seems unlikely that Lyn will die from her granduncle’s machinations. That tactician of hers seems able to predict Lundgren’s forces’ movements on the field of battle, for all their uninspiring appearance. Swaddled in that bulky, neutral colored cloak, facial features so normal ones eyes can just slide right off their face, making you forget you ever meant to watch them...almost as though you were meant to ignore them,  _ much like a spy _ ...Matthew shakes his head to clear away his suspicions.

Either way, the Legion is getting very, very close to Caelin. Matthew yawns, putting aside the thoughts of reports he has yet to make (of rings he can’t afford). He shoves a hand in one of his many pockets, and wiggles his fingers around the empty space. It’s all too easy to turn his head to watch the sun set out the open flap of the tent he shares with Guy, and Matthew spends the moment thinking of Leila.

Using his free hand to scratch behind his ear, Matthew lets his eyes close for just a moment. Holding that image of sunset (pink and orange clouds streaked across a purple-blue darkening sky) in his mind, he thinks,  _ Do you see this sky, Leila _ ? He imagines she does, in whatever place her job’s taken her.

It makes him feel less adrift from her, knowing that no matter how far she goes from him, how far he roams on House Ostia’s business, they have this; The knowledge that when one of them looks up at the sky, the other can do the same. 

They march early in the morning, so when Guy closes the flap of the tent behind him, Matthew rolls over intending to sleep. And when he wakes up, he stretches backwards until his hands hit the ground and he flings his feet over his head to turn the bridge into a toe-touch. Yawning as he rubs the sleep from his eyes, Matthew rolls his shoulders, peeks up at the sky growing lighter at the horizon, and thinks,  _ Good morning, Leila _ .


End file.
